


Watching, Waiting

by feministfangirl



Series: Watching, Waiting [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3472934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feministfangirl/pseuds/feministfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull and Inquisitor Lavellan celebrate their dragon-slaying victory with heavy drinking and heavier petting, but are caught by a certain infuriating and handsome companion.</p><p>For a kink meme prompt.</p><p>Mildly Dubious Consent since everyone is drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching, Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> For a kink meme prompt:
> 
> _Iron Bull pulls Lavellan into his lap, tears a hole in the seat of his pants/pulls them down just enough, and slides his cock in. Maybe Lavellan has had a bit to drink and doesn't realize Iron Bull's intention at first and maybe people in the tavern notice that Iron Bull has his cock inside Lavellan and discreetly watch them._

The Herald’s Rest was loud and hot with the celebrations of the Inquisiton’s most recent victory – ten dragons slain. Inquisitor Lavellan had even managed to deliver the final killing blow, an axe to the neck, winning a bet he’d made with the Iron Bull meaning that the Qunari had to supply all Lavellan’s drinks for the night. This was both a blessing and a curse – the Iron Bull loved to drink.

“Another!” Bull roared, raising his stein to the ceiling with one hand, while forcing his companion to do the same. The drink sloshed over the edges of Lavellan’s cup and dripped over his hand and wrist. Lavellan huffed out an annoyed noise, trying to keep the drink from soaking into his finery. Bull simply laughed in reply, and went back to schooling Krem in the best ways to smuggle alcohol. Lavellan gazed into his mug, his usually perfect vision swimming slightly. He could hold his alcohol, sure, but he wasn’t used to shem’len or Qunari alcohol and he simply could not keep pace with the other warrior. He was far more intoxicated than he’d intended to be. He declined Bull’s offer of yet another pint, but when he tried to make his way out of the tavern, Dorian intercepted him.

“Congratulations on your brutal murder of an uncontrollable and beautiful beast,” said the mage, smirking at the elf. Lavellan suppressed his urge to make a rude gesture and laughed instead. Dorian was useful, attractive, and  _infuriating_. It meant Lavellan spent a lot of time cracking jokes when he wanted to give Dorian a piece of his mind. It was the diplomatic thing to do. But he was drunk, and the best he could do was a simple taunt.

“I do excel at murders,” Lavellan shot back, leveling the mage with a smirk of his own. He moved towards the door, but swayed a little in his journey; Dorian steadied him, a large brown hand splayed on Lavellan’s chest. Lavellan could feel the heat of the mage’s soft hand through the thin material of his shirt. He was rarely this close to Dorian outside of battle, and the mage smelled clean, fresh and spicy. Lavellan licked his lips.

“I must say, Inquisitor, you’re either completely infatuated with me, or you’re more drunk than I’ve ever seen you!” Dorian laughed, and his breath was hot against the side of the Inquisitor’s face. Dorian smelled of a foreign land, one he’d been raised to hate. One that Dorian loved. It was a lesson in contradictions. Lavellan felt drawn to that scent, for some reason. He wanted to chase it, see if it came with a taste. “I thought the Dalish didn’t lower themselves to such base _shem_ activities like getting drunk.” Dorian’s cutting words jolted Lavellan, reminding him again why he’d never made moves on the mage. The man seemed to be dead set on dragging up the conflict between their two cultures, which caused Lavellan to lash out in frustration. It was why he spent so much time with Bull, who could tell in a second when ‘The Boss’ was about to lose it and steer the conversation to safer subjects. He really appreciated that his companion most suited to violence was also well versed in executing non-violent solutions. Especially when many of Bull’s solutions involved his dick. But now he was standing alone, Lavellan couldn’t muster one of Bull’s diplomatic quips, and simply shoved himself properly upright and away from Dorian. To his credit, the mage didn’t seem offended or even phased; he was simply his usual mixture of curious and smug.

“Now I see why we don’t,” Lavellan said. “I should have known you’d try to take advantage of me in my current state.” That hit Dorian at least as hard as he’d done Lavellan, and the elf had mixed feelings on the result. The mage’s languid smile went sharp and thin, while his sea-green eyes flashed. He looked for a moment like he wanted to eat Lavellan alive – and he wasn’t sure if it was in a good or a bad way. The Inquisitor was just beginning to wonder if he should reach for his weapon when –

“There you are,” a voice growled. Speak of the devil. The Iron Bull wrapped one thick arm around Lavellan’s waist, his large hand spanning almost the entire front of the elf’s narrow torso. His other hand held a beer; presumably the one Lavellan had earlier declined. The elf leaned into the embrace, grateful for something to lean on, and something to remind him not to hit Dorian for being both frustrating and hot. Lavellan could sometimes have a problem with his dick controlling his actions. His keeper had chided him for it in the past, and Lavellan didn’t want it to become an issue for the Inquisition. This particular personality quirk had been a large part of why he’d started sleeping with The Iron Bull; they were both horny and frustrated, and sexually frustrated Lavellan was a _real_ asshole. He hated to admit it, but when a giant crass Qunari has to tell you to take it down a notch, you have a problem.

“I’d watch the Qunari sooner than myself,” Dorian drawled, back to his comfortable, confident self. “Although few would kick someone this handsome out of bed.” Lavellan flushed and opened his mouth to utter a scathing response, but Bull beat him to it.

“They only turn you down when they have more exciting company.” With a small impatient grin, Bull tugged him away from Dorian. Lavellan could feel the mage’s annoyance follow them a short distance but by the time they reached the stairs leading to the second floor of the tavern, Lavellan forgot why he had been angry. He spared a reluctant glance for the door, having intended to leave, but Bull seemed so insistent and the encounter with Dorian left him craving Bull’s company. He let the Qunari tug him to the quiet, dark upper level.

Bull was _handsy._ Somewhere in the five minutes they’d been apart, Bull had remembered that he and Lavellan were something of intimate bedfellows, even if not exclusively so, and a wandering hand wouldn’t be slapped away but, maybe, welcomed. And oh, did Lavellan welcome it. He grunted and groaned as Bull led them to a table in an alcove only a stone’s throw away from the entrance to Sera’s room. Thankfully, it was dark; the archer was downstairs making bets with Varric. The Iron Bull slammed his beer on the table, paying no attention to the fact that some of it escaped its container in the process. As soon as both hands were free, he pulled Lavellan hard against him, lifting the other man as he enjoyed displaying his immense size and strength. The elf, to his credit, was not a passive participant. He got a hand around one of the Bull’s horns and tugged him into a sloppy kiss, ignoring the few other patrons on their level, hoping they were all too engrossed in their drinks to notice a little make out session in a dark corner. After a moment Bull let Lavellan down and sprawled in one of the chairs.

“Sit with me,” Bull said, the command evident in his voice. Where he would usually question the time and place for Bull to use such a dominant tone, Lavellan was hot and bothered from dragon-slaying, drinking, and, though he tried not to admit it, Dorian. He moved to obey, but The Iron Bull caught his wrist and dragged him into his lap instead. Lavellan blushed, his intricate facial tattoos standing out even further against his reddening skin. He wasn’t usually such an open book, but drinking and arousal made it difficult for him to control his reactions, and this public display had him both mortified and rising in his smallclothes. And he wasn’t the only one. He shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable and put himself right against the ridge of Bull’s thick length, half hard. Lavellan spared a glance for the staircase that led up to the top level of the tavern, where a pale, easily forgotten boy frequently lurked. He wondered if Cole could hear him, then decided that it didn’t matter; Cole was one of the few who wouldn’t judge him in his current state, snuggled up in the lap of a Qunari like a child.

Once Lavellan was in position, Bull seemed satisfied. He grabbed his drink and began sipping from it slowly. His free hand settled on Lavellan’s hip, rucking up the edge of his finery and tracing absent patterns into the smooth skin underneath. But Lavellan could feel his erection grow under him, and knew Bull was planning something. He had no idea what it was, but he assumed it included a lot of teasing, as they were a distance away from either of their quarters. He squirmed, and Bull’s hold on him tightened. Whether it was to keep him still or simply press him closer, Lavellan didn’t care. He let his head fall back against Bull’s shoulder. Bull leaned forward to lick the tip of one of the elf’s pointed ears and Lavellan shuddered. He couldn’t help himself. Bull knew how to push him to wantonness, to make him pliant and willing. He loved it. It was difficult to concentrate on the fact that they could be seen at any moment. And, with Bull’s tongue tracing wicked patterns into his sensitive skin, he didn’t have time to notice Bull’s intentions as his huge hand slid under Lavellan’s ass. Lavellan bit back a moan when Bull nipped gently, then harder, on his ear, making his hips jerk and give Bull the chance to reveal his plan.

With one hand, the Qunari tore a hole straight through the seat of the Inquisitor’s trousers to his bare skin. The elf grunted a protest but it was already too late. _What was Bull thinking?_ The finery was ruined and he’d have to explain to someone that he’d need it mended right away, and somehow make it back to his quarters without anyone catching a glimpse of his bare behind. He fretted briefly over this, but moments later he was once again distracted. It was difficult to be upset when Bull’s blunt finger was pressing against his entrance, slightly slick though Lavellan couldn’t place from what. He felt hot all over, his clothing too tight and warm. Still, his skin was cool in comparison to the places where Bull touched him, the other man’s muscular form burning a hot line along the entire back of the elf’s body. One of Bull’s hands wrapped around the elf’s thigh, pulling it aside for better access. The finger testing his entrance began rubbing and pushing, teasing Lavellan into writhing in the other man’s hold. The Bull didn’t seem to mind. He’d turned his body so their indiscretion was almost fully blocked from anyone who could see them, and the few people around were out of earshot. To have any idea what they were up to, one would have to get very close. The thought made Lavellan nervous, but it  _also_ made his dick twitch with interest. With that thought, Bull pressed hard and twisted, beginning to open Lavellan up. The elf groaned low in his throat, drawing a quiet chuckle out of Bull.

“Quiet,” he scolded, pressing deeper inside Lavellan as both punishment and reward. Lavellan clenched his jaw as Bull opened him up, quickly progressing from gentle intrusion to focused fingering. The elf tried not to move too obviously as he rocked back on Bull’s finger. He didn’t know how much of this he could take before he’d be begging the Qunari to relocate to a room with a bed and a minimum amount of privacy. Bull, on the other hand, seemed entirely content. He twisted and pushed, driving Lavellan crazy with the need to make noise, but knowing they’d be caught if he didn’t keep his mouth shut. It was too much, to be in public and to have Bull making him feel this way. The inside of his head felt like a whirlwind as he tried to push away.

“W-wait,” he growled, trying to pull away. “Not…here!” But Bull’s grip on his leg was tight, and the Qunari shook his head.

“I’m not going to take you somewhere private.” The deep rumble was right in his ear, behind his back, running through his whole body. Lavellan groaned. “If you want to stop, you say the word we chose a long while ago to indicate that we should. But you don’t want to stop.” A second finger began to press itself against Lavellan’s entrance. The elf couldn’t help but press back against it; Bull had a way of putting rational thought out of his mind. He wanted to protest. But Bull continued. “You want me to open you up right here. Fuck you senseless. Make you forget every other person in this place. Forget who you are. Forget your name. I know what you need, _Lavellan_.” Bull punctuated his sentence with a slow lick along the edge of Lavellan’s ear. That was the moment the Inquisitor realized that he was going to let Bull fuck him in public, where anyone could see. And he _liked_ it.

Almost before he knew what was happening, Bull added a third finger, really opening the elf in earnest now, focused on getting Lavellan open enough to take the full girth of him. Lavellan was doing his best not to make noise or draw attention to himself as he very much did _not_ use the watchword. He reached wildly for something to ground himself with and managed to put his hands on Bull’s beer. His shaking hands grasped the cool metal as he leaned forward to give Bull’s hand a better angle. The Iron Bull spread his fingers inside him, pushing Lavellan wide open. The elf choked down a gasp, his hips bucking against empty air. He knew Bull would restrain him if he touched himself without permission; this was one of the Qunari’s interesting quirks.

“You’re so open for me,” the Qunari panted. “I’m going to fill you up good.” He picked up the pace, forcing Lavellan to abandon the drink and grip the table for support. He was painfully hard now, straining against his clothes. He almost begged for relief, but he managed to hold on just long enough for Bull to slow down and then stop, his fingers still filling Lavellan but giving him a chance to breathe. The elf had only a few moments before Bull pulled his fingers out, fumbled his own pants open, and pulled Lavellan onto his huge dick.

They’ve done this before, many times. This is what Lavellan told himself as the head of the other man’s cock began to push against his hole. He was loose from the fingering but The Iron Bull had the biggest dick he’d ever seen, let alone had up his ass, and every time he has a moment of panic before really, really enjoying the ride. He reminded himself that Bull wouldn’t hurt him any more than he wanted to be, before he forced his body to relax.

“You ready?” Bull murmured into his ear. It was not a question. The Qunari bucked his hips forward while holding Lavellan still and the head of his huge cock pushed inside. The elf bucked forward, then back, trying to reconcile the white-hot pleasure with the burning stretch of being opened. They never turned back at this point, no matter how many times The Iron Bull reminded him about the watchword. Lavellan liked it when it hurt a bit, when he pushed himself right up against the edge of his tolerance before the Bull’s skill pushed all pain out of his body and turned him to a well-fucked mess. Imagining what he would look like when he left their hiding spot turned him on all the more. He groaned, loud. He couldn’t help it. Bull shushed him, clamping a hand over the elf’s mouth.

“Shut up and take my cock,” the Iron Bull said, his voice thick with lust. Lavellan enjoyed a little dirty talk, but today neither of them had the patience for many words. Bull wrapped a thick arm over Lavellan’s hip, his huge hand cupping the elf’s groin to hold him steady and to apply much needed pressure on his painfully hard dick. Lavellan could only nod against the Bull’s hand as the Qunari’s hips began to thrust and drive his cock further and further into the elf’s tight warmth.

Now, the task of keeping quiet fell entirely to Bull. Lavellan groaned and moaned against the Qunari’s massive hand, getting turned on at the idea that Bull could let go of his face at any moment, and Lavellan would reveal their actions with the hot, wet sounds he could no longer suppress. Bull seemed to enjoy it just as much; his initial stuttering rhythm began to slow into a rolling of his hips, rocking Lavellan against him and filling him entirely with every slow stroke. Lavellan gripped Bull’s arm, begging with hands and hips for more against his neglected cock. Bull chuckled but listened. He didn’t bother to unfasten the elf’s tight trousers; he just shoved his hand inside and gripped Lavellan just on the good side of tight, fucking the elf into his hand with every slow thrust. Lavellan huffed out muffled groans and grunts, matched with Bull’s quiet ones. Lavellan’s head was spinning again as he felt a tingling down his spine, the first sign of an impending orgasm.

He knew he’d come before Bull. The Qunari had a talent for wringing orgasms out of Lavellan quickly and brutally, rendering the elf a twitching mass of limbs for long minutes after the first spill of his seed. Lavellan simply couldn’t control himself when Bull made him come. He wouldn’t be able to stop if someone discovered them. Bull wouldn’t mind; he’d already had to bribe a pair of maids who had stumbled upon them using the Inquisitor’s throne in a rather creative fashion. Lavellan should balk at the thought of someone discovering him as anything other than the leader of the Inquisition. He didn’t want to open their organization up to poor rumors at his expense. But he was drunk, already pretty well fucked, and he’d just killed a _dragon_. He couldn’t care about duty, or propriety, or politics at the moment. He just let Bull control their movements, spinning closer and closer to his orgasm.

The Iron Bull began to thrust faster, bouncing Lavellan in his lap with every snap of his hips. Lavellan tried to spare a glance at the room around them, but his vision swam. He couldn’t focus on anything but Bull moving inside him. He couldn’t hold on any longer; he gave in and began to chase his release. He reached up and wrapped a hand around one of Bull’s horns, forcing the Qunari to bend forward as he fucked the elf quicker and deeper. The adjusted position gave Lavellan the leverage to thrust back, squeezing the Bull’s dick with every upstroke. It was Bull’s turn to groan, his deep voice cutting through the din rising from the lower level of the tavern. Bull’s hand, wrapped around Lavellan’s dick, began to stroke and squeeze in a more focused manner while Bull continued his brutal pace into the elf’s tight hole. Lavellan knew he would only last a few more strokes like this. He tried to warn Bull, but with that hand keeping him quiet he could only hold on to the other man as his orgasm began to spark behind his eyes. Pleasure rose in him like a tidal wave; he couldn’t stop it now. He could only trust Bull to carry him through it. His thighs began to shake, his sounds became more high-pitched and broken, then he went rigid, back arched, hand holding tight to a horn even as Bull kept fucking him. One, two, three rough bucks of Bull’s hips and Lavellan gave a muffled howl, squeezed his eyes shut, and began to come.

“You’re a good little slut,” Bull growled at him. “Gonna fuck you till you can’t come any more.” Lavellan’s dick had an extra interest in the words Bull had used, and the first wave of pleasure quickly crashed over him. The Qunari didn’t slow his pace as Lavellan’s dick pulsed hot liquid over his hand, but after a few moments he began to rub, the added lubricant allowing him to easily add friction along Lavellan’s cock and balls. The Inquisitor’s hips bucked wildly as he tried to reach more pressure on his dick, ignoring the fact that he’d just soiled his pants and would probably do so again. After a few minutes of rubbing and squeezing, Lavellan’s dick was tender with the force of his orgasm. He batted Bull’s hand away, but that didn’t stop the aftershocks from continuing. His hips rutted wildly against nothing. His dick pulsed as it rubbed against the slick inside of his smallclothes, just enough sensation to counteract the brutal pleasure he felt from Bull’s movements. Bull dropped his head to the elf’s shoulder and bit down, his eyes shut as he worked his mouth over what would be a lurid bruise the next day. It was one of many that Lavellan would have the pleasure of examining tomorrow, pressing a finger to each dark smudge. Tonight, the bite didn’t hurt, but it brought him back to his senses. His orgasm had finally faded, and Lavellan was ready to help his lover over the edge. He opened his eyes, struggling to see whether Bull was close to coming or not.

Green eyes gazed back at him, ablaze with something too vast for Lavellan’s orgasm-addled brain to place. Dorian stood just a few feet away, concealed in shadow from the few patrons on the far side of the tavern, staring openly at the couple tucked in the corner. For a moment, the elf couldn’t process the information. His fear, his _fantasy_ had come true. They were caught. Or were they? Bull didn’t react, likely hadn’t seen the observer. Dorian hadn’t moved, or spoken; he had a hand on the wall beside him but his other hand hung at his side. He seemed frozen, which meant he must have been there for a while. Watching. He lost eye contact. Bull’s hand shifted, his fingers began to press into Lavellan’s mouth. A clear sign of an impending orgasm, from Bull. Lavellan opened his mouth and sucked the thick digits inside, moaning slightly around the intrusion. He let his eyes flicker open again and found that Dorian was just as he’d left him, only he was palming himself through the fabric of his trousers and his focus was on Bull, thrusting into him with reckless abandon. Lavellan caught Dorian’s eye and raised an eyebrow. The mage stared back, a shadow of doubt crossing his face. Lavellan made a point of flicking his eyes down to Dorian’s groin before making a real show of sucking on the long fingers that muffled his blissful sounds. Dorian’s eyes went dark, but he didn’t break eye contact as he shoved a hand into his own pants. Lavellan increased the volume of his moans, rocking back harder onto the Iron Bull. Dorian held his gaze, licking his lips as he roughly took himself in hand. Lavellan found he was half hard; Dorian seemed so affected, by both of them but most of all, by  _him_.

Suddenly the Iron Bull gave a hot groan into Lavellan’s ear and went still. Lavellan could feel his dick pulse and spill, filling him up with his seed. He moaned on Bull’s fingers, and just managed to catch Dorian’s whispered curse before the mage closed his eyes. As Bull began to buck into Lavellan again, slowly coming down from his release, Dorian came in his pants, head thrown back, neck bared beautifully as he struggled not to make a sound. Lavellan would remember that sight for some time, when he needed help to push himself over the edge.

For a couple minutes, the only sound was their collected breathing, Bull’s loud and hard compared to Lavellan’s quiet huffs and Dorian’s almost silent inhales. Still, Lavellan could see evidence of Dorian’s debauchery: his dark skin was flushed, especially along his neck; his trousers were rumpled and undone; and Lavellan’s favourite part: there’s a wet spot blooming on the mage’s crotch. Dorian pulled out his hand, considering the mess coating it for a moment. His eyes flicked back to Lavellan as he licked his hand clean. Lavellan’s dick twitched again, and the elf cursed softly. ' _My quarters, now,_ ' he mouthed at Dorian. The mage licked his thumb a final time, pausing as if considering the proposal, before giving Lavellan a slow nod. With their plan made, Dorian slipped away.

After some time spent tangled together, still joined but resting, the Iron Bull pulled out of Lavellan. He’d finally gone soft. “Was that good for you, boss?” Bull asked, immediately falling back into their usual, non-sexual, rapport. Lavellan rose slowly, testing his legs before he transferred his weight to the table. Now that there was a little distance between he and Bull, he felt he could speak.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing,” he told him, grinning. “It was worth the risk.” Bull chuckled and gave the Inquisitor a lingering kiss, before rising. “Nice playing with you, boss,” he said. “I’m going to go pass out. Maybe I’ll dream of a dragon.” Lavellan watched him leave with a smile, and then remembered… there was an attractive and frustrating mage waiting for him. He’d have to come up with an appropriate punishment for voyeurism.

* * *

 Killing a dragon was thirsty work. As soon as Dorian had finished scrubbing the dragon’s blood off his body, he’d gone down to the tavern. He was determined to demand a good wine as part of the team that took down the dragon that had the whole keep celebrating. He’d acquired his drink and fell into old routines, antagonizing Fereldans, facing off against Orlesians, and avoiding Marchers. He’d even managed to put thoughts of his homeland out of his head, if at least for this one night. But there was one thought that wouldn’t leave him, and it bore the title _Inquisitor_.

Dorian realized, since he had eyes, that Lavellan was really quite strapping. It was difficult not to be attracted to his decisive nature and easy wit. But the Inquisitor had also decided that Dorian was as much an annoyance as he was competent. As a result, Lavellan brought Dorian everywhere, and they fought  _constantly_. The Iron Bull had joked that the two of them just needed to fuck it out and come to terms with one another, but the look of abject horror on Lavellan’s gorgeous face was enough to drive that idea right out of Dorian’s mind. After a while, Lavellan had started fucking Bull. It drove Dorian crazy, watching the two from the sidelines. He was hopelessly attracted to them both, the very few he could say that about since he’d left Tevinter, and they were a  _couple_.

Dorian was well on his way to drowning his adrenaline and his sorrows when he noticed the elf pulling away from the Iron Bull and begin to leave, alone. Dorian didn’t think through what he was doing, knowing only that he wanted to talk to Lavellan before he went away.

The drink didn’t make much of a difference to his instinct for antagonism. “Congratulations on your brutal murder of an uncontrollable and beautiful beast,” Dorian blurted, instead of the simple greeting he’d intended. He twisted his mouth, hoping it hadn’t come off as cruel as it had sounded in his ears. To his surprise, the Inquisitor just laughed. Anyone could say what they liked about the Inquisitor, but he really knew how to roll with the punches.

“I do excel at murders,” the Inquisitor replied, a sly smile spreading over his face. Dorian let the not-threat roll by, more because he was trying to think of a way to stop Lavellan from leaving and talk to him for five minutes. Fighting with the man was better than nothing, not that he’d admit that to anyone.

He needn’t have bothered; Lavellan was drunk, drunk enough to need support to get anywhere fast. He stepped forward to stabilize the elf with a hand to the chest, keeping him from tipping forward. It put them close together, just a few inches apart. The elf seemed unable to focus for a moment, and Dorian took the opportunity to rake his eyes over the pointed ears, the shiny hair, the beautiful tattoo patterns that marked Lavellan as different than almost all others. The elf was silent, and didn’t shrink away from Dorian’s touch. If anything, he looked almost fascinated. Then, Dorian caught sight of a pink tongue darting out to wet dry lips. It looked an awful lot like desire, though Dorian knew it was really intoxication. It didn’t stop him from exploiting it.

“I must say, Inquisitor, you’re either completely infatuated with me…” he said, his voice thick with amusement. Lavellan didn’t move, just flicked his eyes to Dorian’s, then away again. “…Or you’re more drunk than I’ve ever seen you!” he snorted a laugh at that, remembering the time they had celebrated Josephine’s birthday and all gotten so drunk they’d had to cancel the next day’s expedition to the Storm Coast. That was definitely the drunkest he’d seen the Inquisitor. That night had been fun, more fun than Dorian had with such varied company. Lavellan had spent most of the night by his side, telling him stories of how he got each of his scars, and Dorian trying to divine whether the tales were false or true. But the next day the elf had openly admonished himself for lowering himself enough to get drunk, adding a layer of guilt over the memory for Dorian. “I thought the Dalish didn’t lower themselves to such base  _shem_ activities like getting drunk,” he added, the words coming out more sharp than playful. He could tell as soon as he said it that Lavellan had gotten the full weight of the jab. His face went stricken, then angry as he shoved Dorian back and stood upright. The elf’s face went haughty as he folded his arms across his thin chest.

“Now I see why we don’t,” he said coolly. “I should have known you’d try to take advantage of me in my current state.” Dorian almost flinched. Instead, he held himself steady as guilt and anger in equal measure rose in his chest. He should have known Lavellan would take any opportunity to fault Dorian for Tevinter slavery. Dorian cast about for a proper response for such a slight that didn’t involve getting himself kicked out of the Inquisition for setting the Inquisitor on fire.

            Ultimately, he didn’t have to come up with anything; the Iron Bull had some sort of sense for when Lavellan and Dorian were arguing, and swept in to distract one or both of them with nonsense. Bull was possessive in his greeting, and Dorian tried not to watch Lavellan melt into the touch, but his inebriation really limited his self control. Regardless, he seemed to get his tongue back while watching the two slot together.

            “I’d watch the Qunari sooner than myself,” Dorian said smoothly, steady voice making up for unsteady gaze. “Although few would kick someone this handsome out of bed.” _Only crazy people_ , he thought bitterly, _l_ _ike you two lovers_. His harsh words did get a rise out of Lavellan, to his delight. The elf went a funny colour and looked about ready to bite Dorian’s head clean off. Bull, as usual, had to spoil the fun.

“They only turn you down when they have more exciting company,” Bull quipped, winking his good eye. He wanted the elf all to himself. There was no point in keeping the game up at that point. They’d won, as usual. He tracked their journey upstairs as he made his way back to the bar. He just caught Bull’s large hand wandering to Lavellan’s tight behind before they disappeared out of sight. He grunted a request for wine when he caught Cabot’s attention and spent the next twenty minutes trying to get the image of the Qunari and the elf groping out of his mind.

It was a futile effort. He was desperately attracted to them both, and both teased and bothered him restlessly. He needed them to know how frustrating they were. He needed them to know they couldn’t just tease him like this and leave him wanting. He needed them to know they hurt to watch. He’d had too much to drink, with that line of thinking. But despite his rational brain’s protests, he found himself climbing the stairs to look for Bull and Lavellan.

The upper level was dimly lit by sporadic lanterns, and almost entirely empty. There was a group of three older soldiers playing cards, a dwarf at a table by himself, and on the far side, the faint outline of the Iron Bull. Dorian couldn’t see Lavellan from where he was, but assumed he was also there. He moved forward quietly, not wanting to disturb the mood of the area. As he moved closer, he could hear a faint grinding noise, and some creaking. He eyed Sera’s door warily as he approached, afraid to get an earful of whatever the odd elf insisted on getting up to. But the source was closer than that.

He was a few long strides away from the two before he could see them in any detail. Bull had Lavellan in his lap, turned slightly away from the rest of the tavern, and was fucking him in earnest. Dorian froze. He hadn’t expected exhibitionism, especially not from the Inquisitor. And he was surprised no one else on the level could hear them; as close as Dorian was now, their movements made a number of different rhythmic sounds that Dorian was filing away, cataloging for further consideration later.

At first, he went unnoticed. Bull had a hand over Lavellan’s mouth, and the elf looked blissful as he bounced in the Qunari’s lap. But when Dorian made the mistake of taking a step forward, to see if he could see where Bull’s <i>other</i> hand was, the Qunari lifted his eyes to meet Dorian’s. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither changing their positions. Lavellan was too far gone, his head lolling as he bounced in Bull’s lap. He was beautiful like that, sweaty and pliant under the strong hands of his bodyguard. Dorian had trouble deciding which one to keep his eyes on, all the while that rational bit of his brain telling him to leave immediately. Bull didn’t seem to mind, even groaned almost too loud with his gaze still trained on Dorian. Dorian, however, had to lean on the wall for support as he tried to ignore the throbbing of his rapidly hardening dick. Lavellan was moving in a frenzy now, using one of Bull’s horns as leverage, his knees brushing against the table every so often and jarring it. Dorian couldn’t blame his clumsiness, what with Bull’s hand down his pants, but still; it was noisy.

Dorian looked around on their behalf and was surprised to find no one had noticed. Their noises were so hot and loud in his ears, he wondered if he had somehow augmented his ability to hear. His own heartbeat set the underlying track to what was rapidly becoming the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Lavellan was coming, thighs shaking as he cried out, muffled by Bull’s hand. Dorian watched Lavellan squeeze his eyes shut, shake his head, buck his hips. He filed every motion away in his head. He couldn’t stop drinking it in.

Bull caught Dorian’s eye with a smirk, before he growled just loud enough for him to hear; “You’re a good little slut. Gonna fuck you till you can’t come any more.” Dorian had to bite his fist to keep from moaning at that, wondering if it was really directed at the elf or if it was for Dorian himself. Either way, Dorian was fully hard, and doing his best not to touch himself. That would simply be too far; voyeurism was bad enough. Lavellan went still, frozen like a little statue as Bull still moved, his hands and cock still rough on what had to be sensitive flesh. The elf bucked and twitched in the Qunari’s lap, clearly unable to control himself through the aftershocks that wracked his entire body. Dorian hadn’t ever seen a man have such an intense orgasm; there were tavern rumors, of course, but nothing with proof.

Bull dropped his head to Lavellan’s shoulder and bit down sharply. Dorian felt a pang of jealousy at the thought that Lavellan would wear Bull’s marks for days. He had an image of himself creating a matching mark on the opposite side. It made a smile play on his lips, but it was wiped away when Lavellan opened his eyes, and saw him.

This time, Dorian meant to leave. He meant to run, now that the Inquisitor knew he’d observed their clandestine coupling he couldn’t really show his face in front of the two of them. But Lavellan didn’t look upset. He just looked contemplative. Dorian wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He had just worked up the strength to turn away when Bull shoved his fingers in to Lavellan’s mouth, stretching the elf’s lips obscenely in an impression of other lewd acts. The elf moaned softly, and Dorian couldn’t help but press a hand to his cock at the sound. Then Bull began moving faster again, and Dorian couldn’t help but watch the Qunari’s face contort as he chased his release in the comfort of Lavellan’s body. Dorian bit his lip and flicked his eyes back to Lavellan.

The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow at him. Dorian frowned for a moment, wondering if this was a sign for him to get lost. He let his hand drop. But Lavellan was raking his eyes over his body, over his dick. Then he began blowing Bull’s fingers like his life depended on it. Dorian couldn’t look away from the elf. He licked his lips and thought, _To hell with it_. He shoved a hand into his pants and managed to wrap his fingers around himself. It wouldn’t take much to bring himself off, not after seeing Lavellan come.

Less than a dozen strokes later, Bull was coming inside Lavellan, if the growling noise he made was any indication. Lavellan seemed to relish the feel of his partner’s release inside him, wiggling and moaning against Bull as if he couldn’t control himself. Dorian muttered a curse and stroked himself harder, eyes locked with Lavellan, until he couldn’t take it any more and came. His head tilted back involuntarily and he shook, holding himself up with the help of the wall.

Once spent, Dorian let his head drop forward, looking back at Lavellan again. He wasn’t sure what this all just meant. His gaze tracked up to Bull, who was watching with his one eye half open. Dorian pulled his hand out of his pants, doing his best not to spread the mess on himself or his clothes. Bull cracked a small smile, then just licked his lips. Dorian took the hint, and gave the two a show of his own: he licked his hand clean. Bull looked quietly pleased, but Lavellan looked like he wanted to tackle Dorian to the ground and take him, right then and there.

‘ _My quarters_ ,’ the elf mouthed at him. ‘ _Now_.’ Dorian’s heart jumped into his throat. It was a clear invitation. He looked at Bull, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Without thinking any further, Dorian nodded. And fled.

He was halfway down the hall to the Inquisitor’s quarters before he even realized he’d left the tavern.

* * *

The Iron Bull watched the Tevinter mage hurry up the stairs to the main hall of the keep. The Qunari had spent months watching Lavellan and Dorian antagonize each other before deciding to intervene. He hadn’t intended to execute the plan in such a public way, but the result was as he intended – the two were so blinded by their lust that they’d forget how to piss each other off, at least for a little while.

Somewhere to his left, the Inquisitor was stumbling out of the tavern and following Dorian’s trail. The Iron Bull didn’t mind that the two were monopolizing one another tonight. If Dorian’s heated gaze was any indication, the Iron Bull wouldn’t be kept out of the fun very long. For now, he knew the alone time was what both Dorian and Lavellan really needed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first finished fic in years. I'm so glad I started playing Dragon Age.
> 
> Find me on tumblr if you like that sort of thing: feministfangirl.tumblr.com


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